


what's in a name? (besides the color that brightens your world)

by wishingonlightning



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/F, POV Second Person, Wishverse (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonlightning/pseuds/wishingonlightning
Summary: You take a step forward, but with your eyes glued to Emma as she unknowingly glides closer to where you stand, you step on a small branch. It cracks loudly beneath your foot, and Emma’s gaze snaps up to you at the sound.“Emma!” You can feel your own relief in the taste of her name on your tongue. But the second you say her name the world bursts into color. You stumble backwards into a nearby tree, suddenly breathless.In which the wishverse is a soulmate realm





	what's in a name? (besides the color that brightens your world)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [what's in a name? (besides the color that brightens your world): [FANART]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655512) by [gaypanic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaypanic/pseuds/gaypanic). 



> So I was punked, and I was punked good. From the moment the Protostar art went live until the moment the match ups were sent out, I told Lindsey SO many times how much I wanted the soulmate art, and continued to freak out over how amazing it was. And then I get my match up email and guess who designed the art? So here is another soulmate au just for you.  
> If you haven't seen Lindsey's art then I highly recommended checking it out right now because it's gorgeous!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to my beta/cheerleader alternate8reality! I was very insecure about this fic from beginning to end, so thank you for putting up with all my worrying and telling me what worked and what didn't. You're the best!
> 
> Thank you to the Supernova mods! I don't know how you made this year run as smoothly as you did with so many authors and artists, you guys are incredible!

“Genie of the lamp, I wish to be sent to the same place as Emma Swan,” you say. Your other half’s face, burgundy lips twisted in anger, is the last thing you see before disappearing from Storybrooke completely.

When you open your eyes it’s to a black and white world. You find yourself in the middle of a forest, but there are no lush greens, no mossy browns. The bubble of excitement you felt building in your chest the moment you realized there was a way around the Evil Queen’s plan, that there was a way back to Emma, pops and you’re left feeling every bit as lost as you are.

But you’ve gotten yourself this far, to this land without color, wherever it may be, and giving in now isn’t an option when Emma is out there somewhere, and so you straighten your shoulders and pick a direction, pushing grey-washed leaf covered branches to the side.

What is this place, you wonder, glancing up at the colorless sky that peaks through the treetops. Emma Swan is trouble on a good day; there’s no telling what dangers she could have gotten herself in in such a strange world. 

There is a rustling to your left and you freeze, magic tickling at the palm of your hand. But then you see her, in a patch of white wash sunlight. Her hair glows white, and without even closing your eyes you can picture the exact shade of gold her hair would be, lit up by the midday sun, if this were a world where color existed. 

Your heart nearly stills when you see her, Emma Swan alive and whole. All the dark possibilities of what fate could have befallen her that you’ve fought so hard to keep from your mind are swept away with ease. 

As she moves closer to where you stand, you can hear the soft tune that she sings: Someday when spring is here, we’ll find our love anew. 

You take a step forward, but with your eyes glued to Emma as she unknowingly glides closer to where you stand, you step on a small branch. It cracks loudly beneath your foot, and Emma’s gaze snaps up to you at the sound.

“Emma!” You can feel your own relief in the taste of her name on your tongue. But the second you say her name the world bursts into color. You stumble backwards into a nearby tree, suddenly breathless.

Everything is brighter than ever before, the browns of tree trunks and the dirt on the ground, the ferns at your feet, and the bright yellow flowers that dot the path around Emma. You blink a few times, not understanding why or how.

“Emma,” you say her name again and can feel your skin tingling in response. You take a step towards her, and then another. She looks at you unseeing, and you feel dread pool deep in your stomach.

When recognition finally fills her eyes, your relief is short lived. ”You’re the Evil Queen,” she says, taking a step backwards.

“Emma, no… You don’t remember me?” You know the answer, can see it written all over her face, but you have to ask anyway, hanging onto one last shred of hope that you’re wrong.

Emma moves behind a tree trunk, as if doing so could keep you away from her. 

“I’m not here to hurt you. You know me Emma; we’re friends.” The last word tastes wrong in your mouth, but you say it anyway because it’s true, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

But with each step that you take towards Emma she takes another away. “You were defeated, banished; how is this possible…” The fear in her eyes as she looks at you is something you’ve never seen before. The Emma you know is brave and stubborn; that Emma would never back away from anyone, even the Evil Queen, in fear.

An arrow flies by you a moment later, so close that you can feel it ruffle your hair. You spin on your heel and take in a much older Snow and David, their hair graying. Snow has another arrow nocked and ready, and David a sword pointed unwavering at your chest.

You take a step back from the weapons pointed at you. “Snow, David,” you say in awe at how different they are from the couple you know back in Storybrooke.

“Get away from my daughter,” David growls, jabbing his sword forward in warning.

You raise an eyebrow at the sword, but don’t move from where you stand. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not the Evil Queen anymore,” you say calmly, before turning to Emma. “None of this is real, they’re not real. You know it’s true, Emma.”

Emma’s gaze flickers to her parents behind you, and you can see the desperation and pleading in her eyes, how she’s begging them to be the heroes this realm believes them to be.

You can’t help but sigh, knowing what’s coming next. You see the sword out of the corner of your eye as David takes a step forward and thrusts it towards your chest. With a wave of your hand and a cloud of purple you and Emma are gone from the forest and land gently along the edge of a river.

Emma quickly backs away from you, nearly tripping on her cloak in her haste. “Why are you wearing that thing?” you ask with a roll of your eyes, gesturing a hand at her thick ivory cloak.

Emma’s hands pat over the garment, looking for some unseen flaw in the fabric. “This isn’t you, Emma.” As if to prove your point, she frowns in a way that is very much your Emma. 

“You don’t know me,” she snaps -- or tries to, but the words lack any real venom. 

You walk over to a large rock right along the edge of the water, wiping a hand over the top before sitting down and pulling off your gloves. “You can stop pacing,” you say without looking back at her; the crunching of gravel and the not so quiet huffs from behind you are enough of a give away.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Emma says, marching into your line of sight, her face twisting up in a way that is very unlike the princess this world has groomed into being. 

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” you say, smirking. Emma glares, but says nothing more as she drops onto a rock of her own some ten feet away.

You stare down at the river, watch the way it ripples and rushes, listen to the sound that bubbles up from it.

“What do you want with me?” Emma asks, breaking the silence that has grown between you. 

You rub a hand across your forehead and through your hair. “I want you to remember. I want both of us to go home. Our family needs us; our son needs us.”

Emma’s eyes widen. “Our son?”

“Henry,” you say with a smile, and longing for a world realms away fills your chest.

“Henry is my son, he’s not yours,” Emma says, getting to her feet.

“We spent at least a year telling each other that in our realm, let’s not do it in this one too,” you say, sounding as tired as you suddenly feel.

Emma opens her mouth to protest, but closes it a moment later. She sits back down on a rock that cuts the distance between them in half.

“How?” Emma asks, and you wait for her to elaborate, but her arms are crossed over her chest and there’s a stubborn set to her mouth and you know that she isn’t going to give you anymore to go on.

“How…” you encourage, looking at her and waiting.

“How is he both of our sons? That’s impossible. How could I be from a different realm but not remember any of it? How on earth could I, Princess Emma of the white kingdom, ever be friends with the Evil Queen?” The words come out in a rush and you know that if you don’t stop her now she’ll keep going until she’s out of breath and worked herself into a fit of anger that will be hard to talk her stubborn self down from.

Where do you possibly begin? “It’s...a long story.” Emma frowns at you.

Emma edges away from you on her rock, and you worry that she might fall to the ground if she goes any further. 

“We should go,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Find somewhere to stay for the night while we figure out how to get home.” You look off into the distance, trying to figure out precisely where you are. “I know exactly where we can go, maybe not for the night, but for now.” A smile pulls at your lips, but falters when you notice Emma, feet planted firmly and stubbornly to the ground. But despite that you can still see the alarm behind her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hisses. And there’s the pain in the neck that you know.

You sigh. “Emma I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want to do-”

“Well, good,” Emma says with a grin. “I’ll just be leaving then.”

“-But you’ll thank me for it once you have your memories back,” you say, and without giving Emma a moment to react you transport the two of you onto the top floor of your old castle.

”How do you expect me to believe that you aren’t evil when you keep doing that?” Emma asks, fighting to keep her balance the moment the two of you reappear. You reach out a hand to steady her, but draw it back at her fearful glare. “My parent’s will find us here; they will come for me.”

You ignore her, knowing there is nothing that you could say in this moment to convince her. You march over to a chest set against one wall and open the doors, rifling through the different pots and viles. But with this realm’s version of you being banished, your stores have been left unguarded for too long. You close the doors with a sigh, and walk out onto the balcony where Emma stands.

“You better not be thinking of jumping, Miss Swan,” you say, resting your hands on the rail.

Emma jumps beside you and edges away. But you notice something behind her eyes when you say Miss Swan. A chink in her wall of denial. “I can’t decide which is a worse fate.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh stop being so dramatic, Miss Swan. I’m not going to hurt you. Our son would never forgive me if I did, and it will never fail to surprise me, but I don’t want to hurt you. I meant it, Emma. Where we come from we are friends. Best friends.” You’re words trail off to a whisper by the end, and while Emma says nothing for a moment you think that maybe she’s heard you anyway.

“You really expect me to believe that you’re not the Evil Queen where you -- where we -- come from?” Emma asks and you can feel her eyes on you. 

“It’s the truth,” you say simply. Your eyes follow the path in the distance that you know leads to Snow and Charming’s castle. They may not be on their way here yet, but before long they will be. This is sure to be one of the first places they go to look for you.

You close your eyes and let your magic flow through your fingertips and onto the railing, spreading out to the rest of the castle and the grounds. You sigh and open your eyes, now you’ll know the moment anyone sets foot onto your grounds.

“Who are you then if you’re not the Evil Queen?” Emma asks, still watching you, her pose defensive, ready to back away from you at your slightest movement.

You turn your eyes to her. “I’m just Regina. You were the first person that believed that I could be more than the Evil Queen. You, and then Henry.”

Emma’s eyes soften at the sound of your son’s name. “How can he be your son too?” Emma asks, uncertainty clear in her voice.

You turn your gaze back to the distance. “I adopted him when he was just a few weeks old. I was the one to raise him until one day he ran away from home and came back with you.”

At that she does jump backwards from you. “I would never give Henry up!”

“It wasn’t that simple, Emma. You wouldn’t have given him up if you thought you would be able to take care of him, but you weren’t…” you pause, not wanting to shock Emma with too much of the truth, even if she doesn’t believe any of it. “You weren’t able to care for Henry then. You weren’t able to give him the life that you wanted for him; not then.”

Emma shakes her head rapidly. “I would have found a way. I never would have given him up; he’s my son.” She believes every word that she’s saying, and nothing that you say right now will convince her otherwise.

“This world is very different than our own; things aren’t always as simple as we would like them to be,” you tell her. “But eventually Henry sought you out. He brought you to Storybrooke and you stayed.”

“He found me?” Emma asks softly, fully engrossed in your story, despite her lack of belief in its truth.

You nod your head. “And you’ve yet to leave me alone since.” Emma says nothing in response, but when you glance back up you see her biting back the smallest of smiles.

A breeze blows strongly against the open doorway and you see Emma shiver despite the thick cloak that she wears. “You’re cold,” you state, but Emma holds her head up stubbornly.

“I’m fine,” Emma says. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t have your same superpower, but I do always know when you’re lying, Emma,” you say and head back into your stone room, starting a fire in the fireplace with a flick of your wrist.

“How do you know about my superpower?” Emma asks as she rushes inside after you.

You give her a pointed look. “Right. We’re...friends.” Emma says the words as though they leave a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Emma walks over to the bed and plops down on it, unclasping her cloak and letting it fall to the bed behind her. “I still don’t trust you though,” she says shooting you a look. “Or believe you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you say, sitting down on the edge of the chaise lounge and warming your hands by the fire.

Emma falls back against the bed, and you turn away to hide your smile. No matter the realm, some things will never change.

“You know they’re going to find us here, don’t you? The Evil Queen stole off with the Princess, the first place they are going to look is going to be your evil castle,” Emma tells you. She pushes off from the bed and walks over to the vanity, picking up different pieces of sparkling jewelry, inspecting them for a moment before placing it back down and moving onto the next item.

“I’ll know if someone reaches the castle,” you say and leave it at that. You bring your warm hands back from the fire, placing them in your lap. 

“You’re trapping me here with magic?” Emma ask. She’s trying to keep the fear out of her voice, and if you were anyone else you might not have heard it. Her eyes flicker to the doorway and back to you.

You don’t correct her of her false assumption, and instead stare into the fire before you. It’s as you’re sitting there that the thought occurs to you. You stand up and walk until you’re standing behind her in the mirror. “You haven’t tried to run,” you say.

Emma’s eyes meet yours in the mirror. “What?”

“Maybe I’ve abducted you, but you’ve never once tried to get away,” you say, still holding her gaze.

“I-” Emma looks down, her fingers fiddling with a necklace set with sapphire stones. “You would kill me if I tried. Snap my neck. I’ve heard stories of the things you can do with your dark magic,” Emma says. She tries to stand still, but you can see the slight tremor in her hands before she clenches them into fists and finally gets them under control.

“I’ve already told you that I’m not going to hurt you, let alone kill you. I wouldn’t have gotten myself sent here if I wasn’t intent upon bringing you back alive.” You stare at Emma’s reflection long enough for her gaze to meet yours once more. “Why haven’t you tried to run, Emma?”

Standing this close, the soft buzzing you can feel on every inch of your skin when you say her name feels magnified between you, as if there is something electric in the very air you breathe.

Emma hesitates, before spinning around, shocking you both at how little space is left between you. You suck in a quiet breath and force your eyes up from her lips, where they have fallen without any volition, and up to her eyes; bright green eyes that dance in the flickering light of the flames, eyes that widen slightly the moment they meet your own.

“I thought that maybe… maybe if you had me you would leave everyone else alone. Maybe I would be enou-” She doesn’t finish the word, just brushes past you and takes your vacated seat by the fire.

You don’t know whether it’s this Emma, or the feelings of your own Emma that are bleeding through, but here she is, still trying to act the savior even when she doesn’t know who she is.

“You are always enough, Emma. In all the ways that you’re thinking of and all the ways that you’re not.” You walk over toward the lounge and sit on the far end of it.

You sit in silence for a while. Emma doesn’t move any closer, but she doesn’t move away either, and that might be the bigger victory after all.

“My mother was rarely a kind woman, even when I was young,” you say at last. “But I’ve never forgotten one time when I’d woken up in the middle of the night, terrified from the dream I’d just had. My mother carried me back to my room, and laid me down in front of the hearth and sat beside me.”

You can feel Emma’s eyes on you, but you keep your gaze on the flames. “My mother had magic, and I rarely saw her use it for something other than evil, but that night, while she kept me wrapped in her arms, my mother gave me my own little fireworks show.”

You flick your fingers towards the fire, sparks of blue and green dance among the flames. “The purple was always my favorite,” you say softly, letting a stream of purple shoot into the fire.

Emma’s gaze snaps from the fire to you in an instant. “You can see color?” she asks, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Yes?” You know there is something strange with color in this realm; how you couldn’t see it until…

“But it’s so rare,” Emma says, her eyes still awash with awe.

“What is?” You feel even more confused than in the moment you arrived here.

“To have met your soulmate,” Emma says, and you feel her words like a hand being thrust into your chest, taking hold of your heart.

“What?” you say again, choking out the word.

She tilts her head at you, watching you with interest. “Everyone is born colorblind. You don’t see color until you’ve met your soulmate, until you’ve said their name.” Her words pull the air from your lungs, and leave you gasping.

Your first moments of this realm flash in your mind. The last flash of color before you left Storybrooke, before you were thrust into this world of grey, up until the moment that you saw Emma again, that you said her name.

You jump to your feet, moving closer toward the fire so that your back is to Emma. “It’s so rare. I’ve met so few people that claim they can see color, that I’ve never been sure whether I even believed in it or not.” She’s silent for another moment before asking, “Is it not like that in your world?”

You shake your head without looking back. “No, no it’s not,” you say, your words barely loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire.

“Of course the Evil Queen has met her soulmate,” she scoffs, quietly; you’re not sure whether she intended you to hear the words or not.

Emma moves behind you, and you turn to see her walking toward the bed. “You’ll know if someone is coming for us?” she asks. You nod. Emma crawls on the bed and sits atop the covers, arms crossing over her chest as she leans her back against the headboard. 

“You should get some sleep,” you tell her. She shoots you an incredulous look. “Right. You’re not going to sleep with the Evil Queen in the room.” You sigh and lean back, getting as comfortable as you can.

You close your eyes with a sigh. You’ve fought off numerous monsters and villains in the last handful of years, but not one has left you feeling as mentally exhausted as today. As the last five minutes, really.

Seeing color has always been a normal part of your life, you’ve never thought twice about it. But if this Emma is to be believed, and she gave you no reason to believe that she was lying, then suddenly seeing color changes everything.

Or does it?

You love Emma, sure; she’s your best friend. But being in love with Emma? You try not to put too much thought into the moment you found out that the Evil Queen had sent Emma away with a wish. How it suddenly felt like your stomach had bottomed out, and like pure terror had a chokehold around your neck. You don’t think about how part of your heart felt like it was missing only to be returned once you’d found Emma again in this realm.

You can’t help the sigh that falls past your lips. You crack open your eyes to see Emma still stubbornly sitting in the same position, glaring at where you lie. The glare hurts more than you would ever be willing to admit, and rolling onto your side, facing the fire, you let your eyes fall closed.

 

It’s still dark out, the fire having been burned down to coals and only the very first stirrings of light beginning to prick at the dark sky. But it’s the burning in the palms of your hands that reminds you what woke you in the first place. “Shit,” you mutter, getting to your feet.

The burning in your palms grow stronger and you rush to the balcony. In the dark you’re not able to see the cloud of dust that is surely being kicked up from its place by the army that marches toward you. You don’t see it, but you can still feel it. You wince and cease the spell with a flick of your wrist, the pain quickly receding. 

“Em-” You choke on the name the second you see the empty bed. “Shit.” You move quickly from the room, trying to think like Emma, trying to figure out where she would go. But this isn’t the Emma that you know, and there is no telling where this scared and meeker version of her might be. Did she run or is she simply hiding for cover? 

Emma was so certain that someone would come for her, and that’s what makes up your mind. You run down the corridor towards the most obvious exit of the castle. Emma would have tried to meet her rescuers halfway, trusting in her parents to bring you down for a second time.

You round the corner, nearly slipping in your haste, but you don’t let it slow you down. If Emma makes it back to her parents you’re going to have a hell of a time getting back to her again.

It’s the frantic beating of you can’t lose her in your mind that carries you down the last staircase and to a side door that is already hanging open. You run outside into the garden and see a swish of fabric disappearing behind an overgrown wall of arbravida.

You force yourself faster when you round the corner and see Emma, in the pale light, getting closer and closer to the castle gate. “Emma,” you try to shout, but you’re out of breath and gasping and the word sounds strangled. 

Movement on the other side of the gate draws your eyes, and you suddenly realize just how close the army has gotten, and just how close Emma is to reaching them. 

Having forgotten, it hits you at once that you have magic, and you disappear mid step, coming to land directly in front of Emma, falling roughly into the unforgiving wrought metal of the gate when she runs into you. When she tries to jump back you grasp tightly onto her arms.

“Please, Emma,” you beg, unable to fight the tear that falls down your cheek. “Don’t leave.” 

She looks down at you, her face awash in fear and confusion, and you can see that she’s about to speak when-

“Mom,” Henry shouts from behind you, and you nearly lose your grasp on Emma’s arms before tightening it again. You turn to see Henry jumping down from his horse, a sword grasped firmly in his hand.

“Henry.” His name is said in awe as you look at your little prince, looking every bit the loving title you’d given him the first time you help him in your arms.

But this Henry looks at you with anger and disgust and you are reminded yet again that this is not your world, that this is not Emma’s world, and as Henry draws closer, you force yourself to disappear in a cloud of magic.

“Please stop doing that,” Emma snaps, finally managing to free herself from your grasp. You hear the tears in her voice before you look up and see her angrily wiping at them as they track down her face. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, backing into a tree trunk, still trying to get your breathing under control. 

Emma glares at you before easing herself onto a fallen log with a wince. You’re kneeling down in front of her in an instant. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

Emma continues to glare for a moment. “This is all your fault.” The words and the way she says them remind you so much of Henry, that your heart physically aches in your chest. You swallow back the pain, and raise an eyebrow at Emma, waiting for her to continue. 

After a moment, Emma raises her skirt to show you her foot. “I think it’s broken,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Emma,” you say, sadness filling your chest once again at the realization that she wanted away from you so badly that she hurt herself in the process. Gently, you reach your hand out toward her ankle, but she jerks her foot away, hissing as she does so.

“I’m not going to hurt you anymore that you’ve already hurt yourself. Now let me see.” You hold your hand out waiting for a moment until she finally lifts her leg toward you. You slip off Emma’s boot and take in the already swollen flesh.

Emma winces again when you touch her ankle, but she no longer pulls away. “I don’t think it’s broken, just sprained. I can heal-” At that Emma does pull away, roughly.

“No,” she nearly shouts. “Don’t use your dark magic on me!” There is fear in her voice, and while it is a tone that is unfamiliar to you, the stubborn set in her eyes is something you know all too well.

“I won’t use magic on you if you’d prefer me not to. But I know that you’re in a lot of pain right now, Emma, and if you let me heal your ankle I can make that go away,” you say calmly, your hands resting on your knees where you still kneel in front of her.

Emma says nothing, but continues to glare at you with the same stubborn look. You sigh. “If you won’t let me heal you then at least let me wrap your ankle,” you say, conjuring a long sheet of cloth. 

Emma eyes it warily, and opens her mouth to protest before she stops, and sighs. “Fine,” Emma says, sounding like it is anything, but fine.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you rest her foot on your knee and begin to gently, but firmly wrap her ankle.

“Why are you helping me?” Emma asks after a moment.

“Because I am your friend, Emma. That’s what we do, we help each other.”

Emma scoffs. “We’re not friends, you’re evil.”

“You don’t have to believe me now; you will when you’re ready,” you tell her, sliding her newly wrapped foot back into her boot as gently as you can.

“And what if I never believe you?” Emma asks, watching you carefully.

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” You stand and reach a hand out toward Emma. She ignores you and struggles to her feet, hissing in pain. You bite your tongue to keep from commenting. You watch Emma as she stares out into the hills in the distance. “I hope your not planning on running again.”

“Well where do you plan on taking me?” Emma asks with narrowed eyes. You think for a minute, before an idea hits you. 

“My old home,” you say with a smile.

“Why?”

“There’s something there that might be able to get us home,” you say, reaching for her hand to magic you both away.

Emma eyes your hand and takes a step backwards. “No.”

“Emma..,” you say with a sigh.

“No more magic. I’ve asked you to stop and you haven’t listened.” She watches you carefully, looking for any sign that your going to perform magic anyway.

“It will take us days to get there on foot,”

“Fine,” Emma says stubbornly.

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Do you really think you can make it that far on your ankle?”

Emma shoots you a look that clearly says watch me, and takes off in a random direction. Chuckling under your breath you turn in the opposite direction and begin walking. “This way.”

You hear Emma mutter quietly, but when you turn to look over your shoulder you see her following after you, eyes trained on the ground.

It’s a start, you think.

 

“I’m tired.”

You turn and look at Emma who’s leaning against a tree. “We haven’t even been walking for an hour. You do remember that walking was your idea, right? Days of it, in fact.”

“You’re doing something with magic aren’t you?” Emma acuses. “You’re making time pass slower on purpose.”

“You are a child. Next thing I know you’re going to be begging me for a grilled cheese.”

“A what?” Emma asks, distracted by the mere mention of food, even if she doesn’t know what it is.

You roll your eyes. “It’s not time to break for lunch yet. Come on.” You begin walking again, and a minute later hear Emma huffing as she tries to catch up with you on her injured foot. You slow your pace and allow her to reach your side.

“We better stop for lunch soon. I’m hungry,” Emma says.

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise, dear.”

 

The sun is just beginning to set when Emma asks, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” you ask, turning to look at her. 

“Escape. Come back into the White Kingdom despite having been banished,” Emma says, looking genuinely curious where she limps beside you. You glance down at her foot, but decide against saying anything for the moment, already knowing the stubborn reply you’d get in return.

“You’ve got the wrong queen, dear.” Emma rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me how you think I escaped.”

Emma thinks beside you and you watch as the sky slowly starts to pinken over the hilltops. You sigh softly; you’d forgotten just how beautiful this land can be. But can so many people not see it? Not see the green of the grass as it sways in the gentle breeze? The blue of the sky as it darkens in twilight?

“Somehow you managed to get your evil magic back,” Emma says beside you, drawing you from your thoughts. 

You snort at that. “Magic isn’t inherently evil, dear. It all depends on how it’s used and the intent behind it. However, magic can be light.” You watch her carefully, knowing the bomb you’re about to drop. “Magic like yours.”

Emma doesn’t disappoint. She gasps loudly. “I don't have magic!”

“You’re the product of True Love, of course you do.” 

“Well I’m never going to use it,” Emma says stubbornly and stomps -- limps -- ahead of you.

“You really should let me heal your ankle. You’re only making it worse by walking on it all day.”

Emma ignores you. You roll your eyes, but slow your pace, letting her walk ahead like she wants.

 

A half an hour later and the sky is streaked with pink and purple that’s fading quickly into a midnight blue. 

“We should stop soon. Rest for the night.” Emma keeps walking ahead, ignoring you. “Emma,” you say, exasperated.

“Fine,” she says, spinning on her good heal. “Where are you holding me hostage tonight, Your Majesty?” And suddenly she is every bit your Emma, and oh how you’ve missed her.

“Maybe tied to a tree so I know you won’t run away this time.” You smirk as Emma crosses her arms over her chest defiantly.

“No.” 

You roll your eyes and veer off into the wooded area that rests alongside the field you’ve been walking through. Walking up to a wide tree, you spin to face Emma with a grin. “I think this is the perfect one.” 

“If anyone is getting tied up it’s you.” You barely keep from choking at her words, at the mental image that her words bring to your mind.

“How about no one gets tied up and no one runs away.” You narrow your eyes at Emma.

“I’m not going to run away,” Emma says, kicking leaves and twigs from the spot beneath her and plopping to the ground. “Where would I go anyway?”

“Exactly, dear. You best not run away when you don’t know what kind of beasts are waiting nearby.”

“Yes, I better stick with the one beside me.”

You roll your eyes, and conjure up a bedroll, dropping it in front of Emma, and then another one for yourself, leaving enough space between you for a small, contained fire.

Emma’s eyes widen at the flames. “They’re not going to spread; get some sleep.”

After a moment Emma spreads out her bedroll and climbs inside. As soon as she stills there is silence between you save for the crackling of the flames. The flames. Orange and red wisps of heat, of light. 

“Can you really not see color?” you ask, before you can stop yourself. 

It’s a moment before Emma responds. “No, never. It’s not very common. My parents can, and some people in our court, and I’ve heard talk of it in the village as well.”

She falls silent, but you sense there more she still wants to say.

“I stopped believing it was true, after Henry’s father. I’d said his name a thousand times and there was never even a flicker of color. Although, sometimes…” She rolls onto her side to look at you.

“Sometimes…” you hint.

“I’m sure I’m just imagining things...Your Majesty.” Emma’s eyes widen slightly when she says the title, and you feel your heart pick up it’s pace. Emma surely can’t be saying what you think she’s saying. Neither of you are from this realm; it’s rules can’t apply to you. 

You ignore the small piece of you that tries to argue otherwise, that tries to remind you of all the facts that prove you wrong.

Emma rolls onto her back, clearly done talking for the night. 

You let your eyes fall closed, exhaustion from the little sleep the night before and the day of walking suddenly getting the best of you. And you’re not sure if you’ve imagined it when you hear a nearly in inaudible, “Goodnight, Your Majesty.” But you’re too tired to question it, and soon, you’re aware of nothing more.

 

The first thing you become aware of is something thumping against your chest, the next is the blinding light behind your eyelids.

“You sleep like the dead. You might want to do something about that if you plan on anymore kidnappings in the future.”

You brush your hair back from your your eyes, blinking to clear your vision, and swat the pinecone that Emma had thrown at you off of your chest. 

Stretching your arms above your head and yawning, you take in the bright blue sky through the treetops above. Despite your sore back, from sleeping on the ground, you do feel well rested enough for the long journey ahead of you.

“You didn’t run,” you say, looking at Emma where she sits up inside her sleeping bag.

“Yeah, well.” Emma shrugs, and you don’t miss the slight flicker of her eyes to her feet.

“Emma.” Her name is a sigh. You climb out of your own sleeping bag, magicking it and the fire between you away. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” Emma says. You raise a brow at her, and watch as she falters beneath your gaze. “I’ve had worse.”

“Like what?” Her brow narrows in confusion as if she’s not sure why she said the words or what exactly those worse injuries are. You try to bite back the thrill of hope that threatens to run wild inside you that subconsciously Emma is starting to remember. “Let me heal it. You have my word that I won’t hurt you.”

Emma laughs. “You’re the Evil Queen. Your word means nothing,” Emma says and stubbornly gets to her feet, trying to hide her wince as she does. 

You feel your heart breaking at the sight, dulling the hope and pushing it effectively to the side. It shouldn’t hurt so much for Emma to call you the Evil Queen; you’ve been called that more times than you care to remember. Even your own son has called you that. 

But Emma causing herself pain, because she believes that’s who you are? That feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

“I don’t care what you think of me, but you’ve got to stop hurting yourself, Emma.” Your not sure if her next wince is from the sharpness of your words or the pain, and you find yourself feeling mildly guilty, but the point still remains.

“It’s not that bad, really,” Emma tries to reassure.

“You’re just as thick headed in this realm,” you say, unable to keep your annoyance out of your tone. “Either I use magic to transport us, or I heal your ankle.” Your hands are on your hips and you’re just daring her to argue with you now.

“No.”

“You’re a child,” you say. With a flick out your wrist the two of you disappear.

When the purple smoke clears you find yourself looking upon a sight you never thought you would see again.

The once grand manor, has clearly been abandoned for years.You wonder at what transpired in this realm, if you were still stolen away from your childhood home when you were much too young.

The roof is sagging inward in places, and there are the ragged remain of glass in the window panes.

“Where are we?” Emma asks, too distracted by the sight before her to be angry at having been transported once more. 

“The Mills Manor.” The words come out shaky, and you can’t fight back the sudden longing for a time so many years ago. A time before you knew what magic was, before you realized your mother wasn’t quite the hero your young self had fancied her to be. A time when you worried about nothing and never questioned that you were loved.

Emma steps beside you, and you feel her eyes watching you, but you don’t look away from the sight before you.

“I grew up here.” Swallowing back the lump in your throat you march forward, toward the entrance.

“Should we really be going in there? What is so important that we need to risk the roof caving in to get?”

“My mother’s spell books. There could be something inside that could help us to get home.”

“I think I’ll just wait outside,” Emma says just as you’ve reached the door. You shoot her a look over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m going to run away? Even if I did, we both know that you would catch me before I got far.”

“Be that as it may, I’d still rather you stuck with me, dear.”

“And because I’m all about giving my kidnapper exactly what she wants I’ll willingly follow you into the creepy house,” Emma says sarcastically. You doubt that Princess Emma has a sarcastic bone in her body, and yet again you wonder where the line between this realm’s Emma and your own truly lies. 

The door sticks when your try to push it open, and it takes ramming it in with your shoulder to finally make it budge. You see Emma’s impressed look out of the corner of your eye before you step inside.

Light flickers in through the shattered windows, and you see Emma’s shadow as she follows you inside. 

“There was a room,” you say, turning towards the hallway, “that my mother always kept locked. She would disappear in here for hours at a time.” You stop in front of a paint stripped door, and turn the handle, smirking when you find the door locked even now.

With a flick of your wrist the lock clicks and the door swings open. But while the door may have remained locked that didn’t stop looters from finding another way in. 

The balcony doors hang wide open, it’s glass panes cracked and broken. You cross the room to where a once elegant armoire now stands with it’s doors hanging off their hinges, and a chunk of wood missing entirely where the lock had once been. 

The shelf is empty of the spell books that once resided inside, and you can’t hold back a sigh of frustration, the air leaving your lungs in a painful rush. 

You jump when there’s a loud crash above you and you race back into the hallway without a second thought. “Emma!” you shout, only now realizing the absence of the other woman. 

A few of the steps in the once grand staircase have caved in, and the others don’t look far from doing so. But you take the steps two at a time, jumping over the broken ones, your heart thudding loudly in your chest in the silent house. How is it that Emma made it up these steps safely with a bad ankle?

“Emma!”

“In here.” Her voice is soft as it carries down the hallway. You try and catch your breath when you reach the room, but the sight before you has you losing your breath once again. “Was this your room?” Emma asks, turning to face you.

The room is just as you remember, as if it’s been frozen in time. There’s a four poster bed along one wall, although its blue coverings are now faded and moth eaten. 

The vanity is dust covered, and while the jewels you once wore as a child are gone a hair brush still lies, dark hair tangled up in it’s bristles. You turn the jade handle over in your hand, before sitting it back down.

A smile pulls at your lips when you catch sight of the small stuffed dark brown horse lying in the window seat. You sit down, pulling it into your lap.

“I had wanted a horse more than anything, and one year I was so sure that my father was going to get me my own for my birthday. Instead he gives me this little doll, and I tried not to act disappointed, but daddy, I knew he could see right through me.” You can sense Emma’s eyes on you, but you don’t look up, instead playing with the still soft ear of the stuffed horse.

“Later that day he took me for a walk down through the gardens and towards the stables, and there stood a horse, the same dark brown as this doll.” You do look up now, not even trying to fight back a smile.

Emma watches you for a moment, her eyes oddly unreadable. “He got you a horse,” she says softly.

You nod, still smiling. “Yes, he did.”

“I never imagined the Evil Queen being into horses,” Emma says, and you roll your eyes.

“Horses...and the boy who stabled them,” you say wistfully, glancing through the window over your shoulder and to the field beyond.

“What happened to him?” 

You turn back to Emma who’s fidgeting with the cuff of her cloak sleeve. “The horse or the boy?”

“Both,” Emma says, curious despite herself as she takes a step forward.

You sigh and set the horse down on the bench beside you. “I see your mother decided to pick and choose which tales to tell you of our past.” You push to your feet, fingers lingering on the mane of the horse until it’s too far away to reach. “We should go.”

“I thought you were looking for something of your mother’s?” You can hear Emma moving behind you after you’ve stepped past her to the doorway.

“You’ve seen this house. Everything that could be taken has been.” 

You’re not sure if you’ve imagined it or not when you hear Emma say, “Not everything,” as you walk back into the hallway.

. . .

Emma is fitful that night as she sleeps, tossing from one side to the other until her blankets are twisted to one side of her. You sigh as you push your own blankets off of you and make your way around the fire.

“Shhh.” Kneeling beside her, you smooth her hair back from her eyes, and Emma flops onto her other side, her cloak falling open, and you see your stuffed horse sticking halfway out of an inner pocket. “Oh, Emma.” Your palm caresses her cheek, and in her sleep Emma leans into the touch, her body finally relaxing.

“Bright,” Emma mumbles, and for a moment you think she’s woken, but her eyes are still closed. “Color.” You can hear the confusion in her voice even as she sleeps.

You wonder if just maybe it’s a sign that Emma’s starting to remember, if she’s starting to see color again then maybe she’ll finally remember you. You can almost imagine that she’s your Emma as she sleeps, unable to contradict you for the first time since before you were sent to this realm. 

But there’s a reason you’ve never cared much for believing in hope; it hurts too much when things don’t work out the way you so desperately wish they would. Your heart tugs painfully in preparation for the morning.

You look down at Emma for one last moment, before moving back around to your side of the fire.

She is still for the rest of the night.

 

Emma is sitting up, blankets tucked around her waist, looking around herself with concentration when you wake up. You can’t help the sharp inhale of breath. Maybe she can see color after all?

Emma turns to you at the sound. “You’re awake,” she says, looking at you for a moment, before carefully getting to her feet. If she can see color she’s not going to say anything now. “What’s your plan now? Where are you taking me next?” You shouldn’t find her little huff as adorable as you do.

You frown, hating the words before you even speak them. “If there’s one person that will know how to get us back, I think that it’s Rumplestiltskin.”

“No,” Emma says sharply, jerking backwards. “It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with the Evil Queen; we are not bringing the dark one into this.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to either. But we need to get home, and he might have an idea of how we can do that.”

“No,” Emma says again, ever the stubborn one.

You sigh. “We’re going, Emma.” You wave your hand and all signs that you had been there for the night vanish.

With another wave of your hand the both of you are transported to the opening of a cave.

“I’m not going in there,” Emma says. You put a hand on her back, guiding her inside anyway, and with a glare she complies.

You hear him before you see him, a giggle that has always grated against your ears. “Well, if it isn’t the Evil Queen,” he says once you’ve stepped into the torchlight surrounding is cell. “Oh, and the princess.” His eyes bore into Emma, a creepy, delighted smile stretching his lips. “Isn’t this a wonderful surprise.” He giggles again, high pitched and trilling.

“I’m not the Evil Queen,” you snap, tired of hearing the name you’ve worked so hard to no longer be. “We’re not from this realm and we need a way home.”

“She’s not from this realm. Send her home so I can get back to my parents, to Henry.” Emma takes a step forward despite the fear you know she feels, and you try not to feel hurt at her words.

“Now, now, isn’t this interesting,” he says with delight. “But why would I help you? Unless…” You know exactly where this is going.

“What do you want?” you ask before he can say it.

“I might know where you can get a magic bean. But I can’t get it unless you let me out.”

“Why don’t you just tell us where we can get it and we’ll do it,” Emma says. This Emma is innocent is way that you know your Emma hasn’t been in a very long time.

“No deal. You want the bean, then you set me free.”

“Fine,” you say, and take a step forward, hand lifting as you make to open the cell.

“Wait,” Emma says, grabbing your hand, and you suck in a sharp breath at the unexpected touch. “We can’t just let him out, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I know exactly what he’s capable of, but none of this is real. Whatever he does doesn’t matter.” You flick your wrist and open the cell before she can say another word. 

Rumple steps out of the cage that has been his home for so many years and takes a deep breath. You look at him expectantly.

“Well, I don’t have it here,” he says, taking a step that is more of a skip as he moves closer to you. “The river. Midday tomorrow. Meet me there and you’ll have your magic bean.” With that he disappears in a cloud of smoke.

“He can’t do that,” Emma says, frustrated.

“He’s Rumplestiltskin, he does things on his own terms,” you tell her and start back towards the cave’s entrance. After a moment you hear Emma follow behind you. 

The moment you step out of the cave and into the light an arrow flies beside your head, so close that you hear the sound of it as it buzzes by. You immediately turn to look behind you; Emma is shaken but not hurt. When you face forward again you see Snow, Charming and Henry coming towards you, a large group of soldiers grouped closely behind them. How dare she be so careless to shoot an arrow towards her own daughter.

“Mom,” Henry calls, and it takes you a split second to realized that the word is not directed towards you. “Get away from her.” Now the words are directed at you.

“Henry,” you say, your hands held out in a sign of innocence. “It’s not like that.” He pulls his sword out from its sheath, his grandparents close beside him, weapons ready and drawn.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Emma looking back and forth between her family and you. 

“Emma, come to us,” Snow says, her eyes still focused on you as she speaks to her daughter. Emma takes a step forward and you grab at her arm to keep her by your side. You can’t lose her.

Everything happens very quickly after that. Snow lets another arrow fly with perfect aim, and you’re so focused on Emma that you don’t see it in time. 

The arrow pierces your chest with ease, and you stumble backwards, looking down at where it protrudes from your body.

David races forward, grabbing his daughter and pulling her into his side. “No!” Emma yells fighting against David’s grip. David pulls her backwards, as you fall to your knees. Emma screams again, and you can see the tears that fall down her cheeks. 

“Emma,” you whisper, her name causing a shiver to run through you even now. Or maybe that has more to do with the arrow next to your heart. 

Emma does break away from her father now, dropping to her knees beside you. “You didn’t have to hurt her,” she says, her voice rough with her tears, looking up at her mother. “Imprison her, yes, but not hurt her.”

She pulls you into her lap, and helplessly reaches toward the arrow, her hand hovering beside it. She’s looking at you with wide, tear filled eyes that beg you to tell her what to do. 

You reach a hand up and cup her face. “You have to find a way home. You can’t leave Henry without a mother.”

Emma begins to speak, but her words are cut off with a sob. She pulls you tighter towards her.

“It’s okay.” Your thumb brushes over her cheekbone, as she looks down at you, still just as desperate.

“No, it’s not.” Without seeming to think about what she’s doing, Emma leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

The moment your lips meet, a blast of light shoots from where your lips are pressed together. A moment later you find yourselves on the floor of Granny’s dinner.

“Wha-” Emma’s looking at you with wonder, and you follow her gaze when it moves down to your arrow free chest. “What just happened? Re-” 

“Swan!” You see the pirate running towards you. He tries to pull her to her feet, but she’s still holding you and she’s not letting go.

She’s still looking down at you with that same awestruck expression. “Regina,” Emma breathes, saying your name for the first time in days, and you see the color as it bursts behind her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns)


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